Young Kingsland was already close enough to shoot down the fugitive, and he felt he deserved to be laid low, but, as we have shown, such was not his purpose. An indefinable dislike to slay a foe, even though ferocious and guilty, prevented his firing the shot that would speedily have ended it all.
The rest of the hostiles had disappeared over a swell of the plain and were out of reach.
Why did not Wolf Ear, when he saw he could not reach his pony in time, halt and bring his gun to bear on his fierce pursuer?
He did. The cunning fellow, almost within reach of the pony, and at the moment when his heart was beating high with hope, saw everything frustrated by the action of the animal. The sight of a person coming toward him at such terrific speed, even though belonging to the race to which he was accustomed, was too disturbing to be accepted with serenity. He raised his head as he came to a halt, surveyed the bounding figure, and then, with a snort of affright, wheeled and trotted toward the river.
His speed was much less than that of the Ogalalla, but of necessity it compelled the latter to run farther than he would have done had the beast remained stationary, and it was just that brief interval of enforced stay on the ground that told the Ogalalla the white youth must reach him before he could overtake the pony.
"Surrender, Wolf Ear!" called Brinton; "you can't help yourself."
Evidently Wolf Ear held a different opinion, for he wheeled like lightning, and levelled his rifle with the reply—
"That's the way I surrender! Do you surrender!"
The action was so sudden that Brinton could not forestall him. He was fairly caught.
It was, however, far from Brinton's thoughts to yield to this startling command. He flung himself over the other side of the saddle, so as to offer as little of his body as possible to the aim of the miscreant. He was certain he would fire and shoot down his horse, if not himself. He waited with an intensity of emotion which cannot be described.